


Meeting Your Maker

by khilari



Category: Nameless: The one thing you must recall
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Polyamory, crobidoll
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-08
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 06:24:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4294137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khilari/pseuds/khilari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance's creator unexpectedly turns up at Banjul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

‘Lance.’ It’s a woman’s voice, vaguely familiar but not easy to place, and Lance looks up from telling Shinbi that if she doesn’t start taking her own notes he’s going to charge her to look at his.

The woman looking at him is somewhere in her thirties, tall, although that’s helped by high heels, neatly made up but with fingernails trimmed short and unvarnished. She works with her hands. Lance knows, he remembers one of those hands curled around him while the other delicately painted tint onto his lips. His eyes widen before he can stop them.

‘Do you recognise me?’ she asks, expression full of curiosity and concern. This isn’t what he’s meant to be and she doesn’t know how it happened.

Lance wonders whether she recognises him, or just a Lance-type, something anyone could have made. Whether she’s only guessing that he’s one of hers. Around him the sounds of Banjul continue, chatter and the soft clink of plates, but it seems strangely far away. He nods, warily, because it’s too late to pretend anyway.

‘Um, Lance, are you going to introduce us?’ Eri asks quietly. Her expression is a bit anxious and a bit chiding; he’s being rude, and to an adult.

Explaining what’s going on to her is impossible in front of Soi and Shinbi, even if his throat wasn’t closed up with anxiety. Involving her in this would be wrong, anyway.

The doll-maker smiles at Eri. ‘Sorry, I just need to borrow Lance for a moment. Lance, can I talk to you?’ Her tone is like a teacher’s, she doesn’t expect her doll to disobey, the request is a formality. That doesn’t mean he has to go, they’re in public. Making a scene trying to drag him out isn’t something she’d want to do. But if he doesn’t go with her, she’ll stay to watch him. Yeonho could be arriving for their study group any moment, his cleaning duty won’t delay him that long. Tei’s on the other side of the room, taking orders, but it’s never very long before he stops by to check on Eri. This doll-maker may or may not have ever made their types, but she works at Crobidoll. She’ll know their faces.

Lance nods. ‘Outside.’ The word comes easier than he’d expected, sharp and decisive. The click of her heels follows him as he winds his way between tables not looking back.

Once he’s alone with her he starts shivering. At least he has the weather as an excuse. Snow has started falling early this year, although it’s not much more than a light powdering on the ground.

‘So, what happened to you?’ she asks, taking his hand. It’s not comforting or even restraining, it’s inspecting. She runs her thumb over the back of his hand, pressing lightly to feel bones and tendons, the same way she’d once checked his resin for flaws, looked for seams from the mould.

Lance wants to tell her not to touch him, snatch his hand away, but even human he can’t imagine fighting his creator. She gave him a soul, could she take it away just as easily? Or return him to being a doll the way she’d intended him to be? But the story she’s asking for is one he’s never fully understood and doesn’t think she’ll believe, even if he could risk telling her about the rest of them. So he just stares, stiff but pliant in her hands. Like a doll. Like he’s always been.

The doll-maker sighs. ‘I suppose you feel the cold now. Let’s talk somewhere else.’

Good. That’s good. They’re still barely outside Banjul, she could see Yeonho going in.

She walks ahead and he follows, eyes on her feet, flicking nervous glances up to see what’s around them. The sight of the Crobidoll Showroom ahead stops him. It feels like danger, for reasons he can’t articulate. Like being returned, remade, placed back on the shelf alongside all the dolls that look just like him. It’s not rational, it can’t happen, he’s human, he has an owner. But he halts, staring helplessly at the sign and, when his creator turns to look at him, he runs.

‘Lance!’ she calls, frustrated and startled.

He darts down an alley, hearing high heels tap a fast rhythm behind him. Down another alley, cold air stinging in his throat as he tries to catch his breath. Out onto a main road, unexpectedly, coming to a dazed halt at the sight of cars in front of him, too loud and bright. There are a few people around, turning to look at him, he can’t remember whether they’re a threat. It’s only a moment before he shakes himself and turns right, running until he finds another alley, ducking back into obscurity. Alleys and back roads feel safer and he twists and turns, unsure of anything except the need to get away.

The world tilts as his feet go out from under him, slipping on ice under the snow, or maybe just exhaustion, before cold and pain both sting his elbows and knees as he lands. Getting up feels impossible, his body’s so heavy, and he can feel his ribs heaving against the ground as he pants for breath. It’s tempting to just close his eyes. If she finds him then let her, there’s nothing he can do about it now.

Nothing happens and panic recedes enough for him to process that he hasn’t heard heels clicking after him for a while. _Stupid_. Even if she’s still following, she’s not close behind him, there’s no reason to lie on the floor of an alley despairing. What is he doing, anyway? He could at least hide.

Curled up in the shadow of a dumpster he feels less exposed. He rests his head against his knees, ignoring the stab of pain from a scrape there, and tries to calm down enough to gather his scattered thoughts. If she can’t find him, what will she do? Go back to Banjul, maybe, see if she can learn anything from the people she saw him with.

He groans and pulls out his phone, grateful to find it hasn’t been damaged by the fall. Should he text Eri? No, she’ll ask questions and worry. He finds Tei’s name on the menu. His fingers are shaking, making finding the right buttons harder than it should be.

**Lance: You and Yeonho need to leave Banjul. Now.**

The beep of the phone nearly makes him drop it and he switches it to silent before reading the text.

**Tei: I’ll see to it.**

Thank goodness for Tei. Thank goodness he takes Lance seriously at times like this. The vibration of another text arriving comes a little later, Lance isn’t sure how much.

**Tei: We’re outside. What happened? Eri says you left with a woman earlier.**

**Lance: My creator. I didn’t want her to go back and see you.**

**Tei: Are you all right?**

**Lance: She didn’t hurt me. I ran.**

**Tei: Where are you?**

**Lance: I don’t know.**

Lance looks at his last text, feeling stupid and embarrassed at seeing it written out so bluntly. There’s no point in denying it, though, he has no idea how far he ran or in what direction.

**Tei: Do you see any street signs?**

Lance glances around for a moment. He should get up and go looking for one. Even if the thought of leaving his hiding spot freezes his insides. He rubs a hand over the bridge of his nose and types back.

**Lance: No.**

Then waits for Tei to tell him to go and look for one.

**Tei: We’ll find you.**

Lance stares at the screen for a while, shaky with relief.

**Lance: Okay.**

Time passes in the hazy way it did when he was a doll, zoning out in the absence of his owner’s attention and drifting into shapeless thoughts. It feels like being a doll, here, motionless, small and helpless. Scratched and alone, like the Barbie he’d seen once.

‘Lance! I can sense him!’ Yeonho’s voice cuts through the haze and Lance jerks his head up sharply, surprised when the motion makes him dizzy.

They come into view, Yeonho’s eyes large and concerned, Tei’s thoughtful. Tei reaches out a hand and Lance takes it, stumbling to his feet.

‘What are we going to do?’ he asks.

Tei frowns at him. ‘What do you mean?’

‘My uniform… she saw it, if she goes to the school looking for me she’ll find all of us except Yuri. I was with Eri when she saw me, too, I don’t know who she’ll tell.’

Tei reaches out and startles him by stroking his hair back from his forehead as if he was Yeonho. A moment later he sighs. ‘You’re feverish. She’ll worry, you know.’

Lance looks down. She will worry and this isn’t even the first time.

‘Tei, don’t be mean,’ Yeonho says.

‘Hm,’ says Tei. ‘We’d better call a taxi.’


	2. Chapter 2

They’re barely through the door of the house when Tei says, ‘Oh, you’re here,’ sounding flustered and Lance looks up to see Eri coming towards them.

‘The study group didn’t last long without Lance,’ she says, then turns to Lance and wraps her arms around him. ‘You’re cold.’ She’s warm. ‘And you’re bleeding!’

‘I’m sorry,’ Lance responds quietly.

‘No, why are you sorry?’ she asks. ‘What happened? Who was that woman?’

‘My creator.’

Eri clutches at him suddenly as if someone had tried to pull him away from her. It’s reassuring. ‘Why did you go with her?’

‘Tei was there and Yeonho was coming. I didn’t want her to see.’ He closes his eyes. ‘But she saw my uniform. She might come to the school. I should have gone back to the showroom with her, then she wouldn’t be looking for me now.’

‘Don’t say that!’ She buries her face against him. ‘Do you even know how I’d feel if you just _vanished?_ ’

‘Sorry.’ He remembers her frantically chasing after the cat, searching for any link to a missing Yeonho. He’s afraid she might lose all of them over this, that it might have been better to lose just him, but Eri doesn’t think like that. Her heart would break to lose any one of them.

‘Um.’ Yeonho’s voice breaks in. Lance looks at him, swaying slightly as the motion makes him dizzy. Yeonho’s holding out dry clothes and the first aid kit from the bathroom.

‘Thank you, Yeonho.’ Eri lets go of Lance to take what Yeonho is offering, tucking them under one arm before reaching the other hand back to Lance.

He takes it and follows, setting his feet cautiously on the floor. The world feels unstable around him. Eri leads him to the bedroom and he sinks down to sit on the bed with a quiet sound of relief.

‘Sorry,’ Eri says, reaching down to help strip off wet clothes. ‘I should have done this first, not asked you questions.’ She touches his forehead, almost the way Tei had, but it’s less surprising from her. ‘Especially when you’re sick.’

Having Eri take his clothes off feels both strange and familiar now. She’d done it all the time when he was a doll. She’s done it with him human, too, but with kisses and him taking hers off in turn. This feels more like being a doll, helpless but safe in his owner’s hands.

Eri kneels down and reaches for the first aid kit. ‘Did she hurt you?’ she asks quietly.

‘No. I just fell.’ Lance tenses but doesn’t make a sound at the sting of antiseptic on his knee.

Eri’s quiet as she finishes cleaning and bandaging Lance’s scratches. Even though he’s been human for more than a year now, sometimes it still feels strange to think his body will heal by itself. It probably won’t even scar and even if it did he wouldn’t be damaged goods because of it. Letting Eri help him into warm clothes makes him feel more doll-like than ever, though, and he shivers.

‘Eri?’

‘I’m here.’ She sits on the bed beside him and nestles into his side, head resting against his shoulder.

He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against hers. ‘I don’t think she would have hurt me like that,’ he says, words spilling out guiltily. ‘But… I thought she might turn me back into a doll. She still… treated me like a doll. Like one that wasn’t what it was meant to be.’

Eri takes his hands in hers, trying to reassure him, but he can feel her shiver. They’ve always been the ones most afraid of this, even knowing where the magic had come from and that it had lasted past its instigator leaving. Maybe he learnt it from her, this certainty that nothing good can last, or maybe it comes from being sold as a starter doll. For Eri it comes from too many brief visits from her parents and too much loss.

‘I’m sorry.’ He feels heavy and hazy with fever. ‘I shouldn’t make you anxious.’

‘Stupid. Of course I’m going to worry if something bad happens to you, stop acting like that’s your fault or like you should be able to hide it.’

‘Can you really say that?’ He pushes her hair back as an excuse to meet her eyes, shining and soft with compassion, and manages to smile. ‘I think you taught me bad habits, my owner.’

Even gentle teasing flusters her, even now, but it relaxes her too. ‘Do you want to stay here tonight?’ she asks.

It’s not Lance’s turn, but turns are forever being shuffled based on who Eri needs or who needs her. Like most things it’s a compromise, and they manage to make it work more often than it doesn’t. He nods and pulls her down onto the bed with him, draping an arm over her as she wriggles around trying to get the covers over them both. It’s safe here and he’s tired in a human way, limbs and eyelids heavy, so different from the timeless fugue earlier.


End file.
